Harry and Draco, along with Crabbe, Goyle, and the rest of the gang walked their way through the streets of Compton. What few white people there were in the city were overcome with fear at the sight of such a menacing group of African Americans. It wasn't simply nervousness, not the typical feeling a white person gets when a car playing loud rap music pulls up next to theirs at a stop light and suddenly they are reminded to check if their doors are locked, combined with the overwhelming need to stare intensely at the traffic light, and nothing else, only glancing at the car beside them in small intervals. No, this wasn't that kind of fear. It was the fear of death itself. Draco's gang stared down any white person they came across, sometimes yelling things like "Hey you in the wrong part of town, bitch" and other such provocation. Most of the time, these words were combined with one or two of the gang members lifting up their shirts to expose their gleaming Tec-9's, loaded and ready blast apart any cracker that stepped into the paths of their barrels.
Harry never once met a white person before, so he didn't know what to make of them. The old Harry would have pondered the idea of meeting these kinds of exotic peoples, perhaps even asking in which ways their lives differed from his own. But Harry was a hardcore black man from the streets now, and he had other issues to deal with. Namely, how he was going to exterminate the dumb motherfuckers he was accompanied with.
Finally, they arrived at some crack den at some street corner somewhere. Draco put his arm around Harry. "Ah, we're home. We call this place Malfoy Manor. We'll show you to your room." They walked into the building, if it could even be called such a thing. Harry wondered how a run-down hell hole like this one could still be standing. The supports beams were held together with duct tape, each and every window was boarded up, and the entire place smelled distinctly like crack and rat civilizations. Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out the card that was found on Hagrid. He cleared his throat. "It says here, that you, Harry Potter, are in fact a wizard."
"I don't know nothing about that shit," Harry replied.
Draco looked confused. "What do you mean, exactly?"
"I mean that I don't know nothing about that shit. You wasted the one guy who could explain any of that to-" Harry became distracted by movements he saw in the corner of the room. He saw tiny little motions in the shadows, almost as if to beckon him.
"Well shit," said Draco. He grinned. "Hey, we'll figure something out. In the meantime, help yourself to some crack, my friend." Harry wasn't listening, he instead looked into the shadows, and found that there was indeed something waving at him. He had to find out what it was immediately.
"Hey, uh, can a nigga use the bathroom 'round here?" He asked Draco.
"Yeah, sure thing, it's right over there." He pointed at a door, somewhere past Harry.
"Thanks," Harry said, and walked in the complete opposite direction, towards the strange shadow. When he walked into the darkness, he was quickly greeted by a short pointy-eared elf like thing. "What the fuck are you?" Harry asked in disgust.
"Massah, they call me Dobby the Crack Elf. I needs to speak with you, Harry Potter. I needs to real bad."
"Well then speak, you disgusting goddamn elf."
"That's racist, massah. You should know better."
Harry looked down at his arms. "How can I, of all people, be racist?"
"Never mind any of that. I needs to speak with you. Draco finna kill you, massah."
"Not if I cut his head off. But I was hoping that would be a surprise. Why does he want to kill me?"
"He was always talking 'bout how he needs recruit some wizards into his gang. If you ain't a wizard, you just a waste of his time."
Harry was confused. "So what? He isn't a wizard, none of them are, what's one more thug in this dumbass gang?"
"Because of that letter. You are going supposed to go learn how to magic. But now Draco, has it, and he can just pretend to be you. You aren't needed anymore."
"He doesn't even look like me."
"Let's be real here, massah." Harry looked over at Draco, who was smoking from a bowl of crack. Harry decided to test the crack elf's theory, and walked up beside Draco.
"I need that letter back," Harry asserted.
"What? Oh no, I'll just hold on to that."
"Nah, I think I need it back now."
"Nigga, you don't even have any pockets, I'll hold on to it." He smiled, and smoked more from his bowl.
Harry grabbed him by the collar of his white tank top. "I want my fucking letter."
Draco's smile faded. "I save you from certain death, let you into my home, and offer you crack, and yet you treat me like this? Nigga, fuck you." He roared and throw his crack bowl at Harry. Harry ducked just in time, and the bowl went flying past the top of his head. Behind him, Dobby the Crack Elf managed to catch the bowl, but was knocked back violently by the force of the throw.
Dobby stood up weakly. "Massah offers Dobby crack, now he is free."
Draco began to seethe. "And on top of all this, you cost me my crack elf." He pulled out his Tec-9 and aimed it at Harry's head. Harry stepped back and looked around, and saw that the rest of Draco's gang had done the same.
